


Thought, Machine, and the Inbetween

by tablrcloth



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Compliant, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Karl Jacobs-centric, Light Angst, Minor Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, President Wilbur Soot, Swearing, Time Travel, Time Travelling Karl Jacobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29595834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablrcloth/pseuds/tablrcloth
Summary: Karl Jacobs is a time traveler, hopping through different timelines against his will and slowly losing his memory in the process, and the one thing that can give him answers but doesn't is a mysterious dimension called the Inbetween.So what happens when the Inbetween sends him to an alternate reality where Wilbur wins in the election instead of Schlatt and his time travel is finally revealed?
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs, Eret & Karl Jacobs, Karl Jacobs & Niki | Nihachu, Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Karl Jacobs & TommyInnit, Karl Jacobs & Wilbur Soot, Tommyinnit & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 29
Kudos: 343





	Thought, Machine, and the Inbetween

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I am writing about the characters of the Dream SMP and not the creators themselves. if any creators featured are uncomfortable with this work or fanfiction in general i will not hesitate to take it down.
> 
> first fic in a month POGGGG. i kept the engagement ambiguous in terms of romance so it can be seen as platonic or romance, your choice.
> 
> this took forever to edit. anyways subscribe to karl

The feeling of getting stabbed was not one that was new to Karl Jacobs, and yet it surprised him all the same.

Maybe it wasn’t the getting stabbed part that shocked him, but rather the feeling of betrayal, of Sir Billiam smiling and praising the all-too-familiar Egg, the silent butler speaking with more confidence than he had during the entire party, of Karl drifting off with his blood pooling around him and the pulse of the Egg in his ears.

Karl was familiar with stabbing. He was familiar with injury, period. But he wasn’t expecting the thing that came after, when it felt like his soul fell out of his body and landed in a white hallway and he felt so raw and vulnerable and new.

That was the first time he met the Inbetween. It was a comfort to see after the traumatic experience of the Masquerade, even if it hurt his eyes at first. After walking around the white castle, he was returned to his library, the story ending, the chapter closed.

Karl doesn’t know how he’s time traveling. He doesn’t know why sometimes the ground opens up beneath him as he’s walking and he’s sucked into a dimension that delivers him into one tale or another, forced to learn the stories of people whom he had never met and would never meet again in order to leave. He’s not even sure _why_ it’s happening, but he’s sure of one thing.

His memory is slowly disappearing, fading away like dust on a summer breeze, and he doesn’t know how to fix it, but he’s sure the Inbetween is behind it all.

Karl sets down his pen, closing the diary and stashing it on the bookshelf. _Guess I’ll find out next time,_ he thinks; and find out he does.

The next time he travels, he’s taken to a town in the West, and it’s so like the old cowboy movies and spaghetti westerns he watched as a kid he couldn’t help goofing off, saving the town along the way. It was the first tale that didn’t add badly in a while (or at least, the first one that didn’t end with him dying in order to get home), and when he woke up in the Inbetween it was with a smile, an undiscovered burden lifted off his shoulders.

Despite his cheery mood and the smile on his face, the mystery of the Inbetween forced him back down to reality, and as Karl explored the castle he couldn’t help wondering what he was trading for; a few cool stories for his entire memory? Losing his friends, his enemies, his _childhood?_ The other day, he forgot Quackity’s real name and the date he got engaged to his fiances. He couldn’t remember where Tubbo was staying or what project Sam was building. He was forgetting _everything,_ and he didn’t know how bad it was because he couldn’t remember anything well enough to make a comparison! _  
_

_Is it worth it?_ he wonders, ballpoint pen tapping against the crisp white page of the diary, black ink marking the paper where his pen flicks it. He writes a finishing line before closing the book, and standing up from his chair, he places it back on the bookshelf and walks out of the library into the bright sunlight of Party Park.

 _I should move this,_ he thinks, looking at the library, then turns and starts down the path, rubbing his head. His time spent in the Inbetween hurt his head more than usual, and he felt a bit dazed, as though his head were wrapped in cotton. There were people traversing the white castle this time, but each person was himself. It hurt his brain to think about.

“Karl!”

Karl looks up, fingers pulling away from his temple as he turns to search for the voice. He soon finds it, a boy who couldn’t be more than 16 running toward him, with a mop of blond hair and a red and white shirt. Distantly, he thinks, _shouldn’t I know this person?_ before the boy continues talking.

“I don’t know if you have a house, but in case you don’t, I’m formally inviting you to the opening of the Big Innit hotel!” The boy grins, but Karl doesn’t smile back, instead searching the boy’s face.

 _Do I know you?_ he thinks, but by the time he realizes he should probably smile back, the grin is dropping off the boy’s face. “Karl? You all right, man?”

“Uh... uh, yeah! I’d- yeah, you can show me the hotel.”

“Did you hit your head?”

“You know,” Karl says quickly, trying to save the lie while he can, “I might have, my head feels a bit weird. Where’s the hotel?”

“Oh, damn,” the kid says, completely ignoring him as his face twists in sympathy. “Lucky for you, I know how to diagnose concussions. So, you’ve got a headache. Do you have blurry vision?”

“No.”

“Dizziness?”

“Nope.”

“Confusion?”

“Yes,” Karl tries, drawing out the ‘y’.

“Nausea or vomiting?”

“No.”

“Memory loss?”

Karl hesitates, his mouth opening to answer an immediate ‘no’, but the word lies flat on his tongue.

“Karl?”

“Um... yeah.”

“Alright. I don’t think that’s a concussion.” The boy shifts, tucking a hand underneath his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know how to explain the memory loss if it’s not a concussion, though. Do you have dementia?”

“ _Dementia?_ Uh... no? Listen, you don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine. I know what the problem is, I’ll be over it soon.” _I hope._

“You remember me, right?” the kid jokes, but the playful grin falls off his face as Karl stares at him blankly. “...Karl?”

“Oh! Um, yes! Of course,” he hurries.

“What’s my name?” the boy quizzes, and Karl freezes. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know who this person was to him. Why can’t he remember? _Why can’t he remember?_

“Uh...”

“My name’s Tommy,” he says, any playfulness gone from his voice, his expression turning dangerous. “Karl, what happened?”

Karl opens his mouth to respond, maybe to lie or say “I don’t know,” but before he can speak, the ground opens up and swallows him whole.

At first, when he doesn’t recognize where he is, he assumes it’s the same as normal; a new timeline, with complete strangers, either far in the future or in the past.

When he sits up and the Community House is right in front of him, he realizes that he is very, very wrong.

Did the Inbetween make a mistake? Did he get flung across space instead of time? Was that even possible?

 _That wasn’t the case last time,_ he thinks darkly. There was only one time before when he traveled to the near past, a few days before...

Well.

 _If only I could remember,_ he thinks grouchily, _then I could tell when I am._

Karl tries anyway, despite the faults in his memory. As he looks around, he sees the Community House, with bamboo lining the Prime Path. That was normal; the fortress to the left of the path is missing, and when he stands up, he doesn’t see the matching brick buildings (snow cone and vegetable stores?) in the distance.

“Definitely time travel,” he mutters, then glances up to look for anyone who may have heard him. He doesn’t see anyone, so he looks around one last time before he starts down the road. Where there were people, there was rising action. The quicker he pursued the plot, the quicker he could leave. Then, maybe the Inbetween would give him answers to his memory predicament.

The path creaks familiarly under his feet, and he can’t help observing his surroundings more. The one thing that jumps out at him is the lack of red; no blood vines lining the path or laying at his feet, no crimson spread along the walls of buildings or snaking along roofs. Karl wonders how far back he traveled; surely not more than a few months. Even with a bad memory, he could recognize some buildings. Punz’s estate was largely the same, if a bit bare, and as he walks onto L’manberg’s Embassy, a small but familiar blackstone tower stands proudly against the sky. He smiles upon seeing it and turns, smile quickly dropping off his face when he glances at the road carved into the hill. Distantly, he remembers he had a house here, but the thought leaves his mind as his pace quickens and he runs through the hill as it opens up and shows a not blown up L’manberg in all its glory.

“Holy _honk!”_

L’manberg is less grand than he remembers save for the towering black walls at the base of the road. There are fewer buildings than he remembers littered around it. If Karl had ever seen the country looking like this, he no longer remembers it.

Karl continues down the road, stepping off the path at its base and trekking past the walls. Surely he could find someone here, find a way to start the tale so that he can leave it.

At first, he doesn’t hear the noise of the microphone scratching, a far off voice speaking formally, but when he rounds the bend and sees people staring up at Wilbur Soot, reading from a paper on a podium, he knows exactly when he is.

September 22nd. 2020. The Election. The day that started everything.

Surely the Inbetween didn’t send him here to torment him. The last time he was sent to L’manberg, all he could do was remove a button from a wall and hope for the best.

The best didn’t happen.

Karl tunes back in just as Wilbur shouts, “Swag2020 got thirty percent of the vote, which means that Pog2020 won with FORTY-FIVE! PERCENT! OF THE POPULAR VOTE.”

He hears cheers from the crowd, but they barely register in his mind. Pog2020, winning? That wasn’t how it originally happened, was it?

The first time he was dumped in the near past, events were the exact same, able to be changed and molded by his careful hand. Now, if he were to try shaping this reality, how could he be sure it would even change the current course of events? Was he traveling alternate realities instead of history?

_What was going on?_

“Karl!” he hears, and he turns to see Sapnap approaching him from the wall. “What are you doing here?” He’s not sure if he and Sapnap are fiances yet, but he smiles all the same.

“Ah, y’know- it’s history, may as well be present for it.”

Sapnap chuckles darkly. “Yeah. History.”

“This is the election, right? For L’manberg?”

“Yes, Schlatt’s getting exiled, _pay attention.”_

Karl whips his head around to stare at the podium. Wilbur is pointing his finger at Schlatt on the stage, but the mic doesn’t pick up his words, only vague shouts being heard from this far away.

 _I should get closer,_ Karl thinks.

He runs forward a bit until he makes it to the seats. He can see Punz and Tubbo in the crowd, a woman with blond hair and a fox standing next to each other. He wishes he could remember their names. Turning to look up at the podium, he sees Quackity and Schlatt and Wilbur, and the boy with blond hair who was just with him ten minutes ago.

 _Tommy,_ he thinks, and straightens. No better time than now to remember who Tommy was and be able to answer his questions when Karl came back.

_“Karl, what happened?”_

... _Some_ questions.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” Wilbur shouts, and Karl watches Schlatt scowl and step down from the stage, ambling away into the spruce forest.

Tommy laughs, a laugh that speaks of relief and freedom, and then jumps down from the stage and hugs Tubbo. Karl watches as Wilbur smiles tiredly but proudly, and thinks, _So this is what could have been._

He straightens when Wilbur steps down from the stage and walks toward the crowd, and clearing his throat, begins talking. “I’m glad I had your support. Now, more than ever, L’manberg is strong.”

Someone behind him claps, so Karl raises his hands and claps too, adding a whoop for emphasis. Soon, everyone is clapping for the president, and Wilbur has an astonished smile on his face. Karl can’t help feeling a bit proud.

He turns to the side to look for Quackity, but a glint to the left catches his eye and he looks up at the tower. A man in a white mask is watching, but when Karl sees him, he turns away.

 _Honk,_ Karl thinks, his hands falling still and curling into fists. Dream was here, and he was watching. Karl can’t remember if Dream was manipulative and power hungry just yet, but he doesn’t want to take his chances.

Karl put the puzzle pieces together easily enough a long time ago; the Inbetween sends him to stories that need resolutions. This is a story that for some reason, doesn’t have a resolution.

No matter. He always finds an ending, one way or another. But this time, he has reason to care about the inhabitants, turning his head and spotting Quackity and Sapnap talking together.

He has people he cares about. He can make sure they’re safe.

After a few hours of waiting, Wilbur delivered his first decree. Americans were now allowed in L’manberg, on behalf of Quackity’s insistence. There would be new emphasis on expanding their economy, and they would encourage the building of new shops and stores. The woman with blond hair looked pleased at that one, and after a few more hours Karl learned her name was Niki, and she had a bakery.

Karl wasn’t sure where the problem was with this tale. Most conflicts revealed themselves immediately; the Wild West, a group of Bandits, and the village, a pair of murderers. But he knew it would pop out eventually, and he was _sure_ it would be courtesy of Dream.

Karl has sat in his chair for a few hours now, just thinking. He hadn't moved from his seat in the crowd, and no one approached him. He silently hoped someone would, just so that he could get the story moving, and maybe return home in time for dinner.

“Karl!” he hears from behind him, and sends a silent thank-you to the Inbetween, turning to see Niki. “I saw you at the election. How are you?”

“I’m great!” he says with a smile, the lie easy to conjure. “How’s your bakery?”

“Hopefully I’ll get business,” she says wryly. “I’m just glad we have peace, and not another war. I don’t know what I w0uld have done if Schlatt won.”

 _According to history, you get taxed unfairly and run away with the revolution,_ Karl thinks, but he keeps smiling and his mouth shut. “Yeah. Wilbur’s letting Americans in now. That’s cool.”

“He wasn’t sure what would happen if Quackity yelled at him again,” Niki says with a laugh. “So he did it just to be safe. Besides, commerce keeps a country afloat, does it not?”

“You’re right,” he responds, still smiling, but it turns a bit genuine this time. “Any other L’manberg plans you know are happening?”

“I think Tommy and Tubbo are vacationing for a few weeks,” she says, shifting her position with uncertainty. “And Wilbur’s planning on a festival.”

The smile drops off Karl’s face and he stands from his seat, quickly enough for it to screech against the pavement. “What?”

“What’s wrong?” Niki says, her own smile disappearing. “What’s wrong with festivals?”

“Oh, I-” Karl forces himself to sit back down in his chair. “I don’t know. Just, a bad feeling.”

“Well-” Niki continues, with a glance at him, “it’s just to show that this is an open country to the rest of the lands and the people in it, and that we’re welcoming. Tubbo said he was excited to decorate for it.”

Karl’s stomach flips over and he grits his teeth before forcing himself to calm. This was an alternate reality. Nothing bad would happen.

“Yeah, I could help with that. I’ve got some stuff laying around I think could be of use.” Even though it’s a lie, Karl’s sure he’ll find _something._

“You keep festival decorations on hand?” Niki asks with a laugh.

“You never know when stuff like that may be nice to have!”

Niki laughs again, and Karl joins her, the two continuing to quietly talk until the sun dips from the sky and the moon begins to rise, shining a silver glow on the ground. Karl shivers, looking around.

“It’s dark, we should head on home. Good luck with your bakery!”

“And you, with the wedding!”

Ah. So he _is_ engaged.

Niki turns and leaves, and Karl stands from his seat, glancing around one last time. He can’t remember which of his houses exist yet. Maybe none of them. If that were the case, he could probably room with Sapnap or Quackity, but he doesn’t know where _they_ live, either.

For the life of him, Karl can’t remember where he’s staying, so he simply walks into the walls of L’manberg, a feeling of comfort settling on his shoulders, and steps into the camarvan. It’s easy to see that even in September, the van has long been disused, but Karl pulls out some wool from the back chests and makes a cozy nest on the ground anyways. Maybe he’ll ask someone to stay with tomorrow. For now, this will do.

Karl lays on his makeshift mat, and slowly drifts off into sleep.

The next few days are uneventful. Karl continues to forget to ask someone to stay with instead of sleeping in the van, and Quackity funnels information about the festival planning to Karl as he waits in anticipation for something to go wrong. Something always goes wrong at a festival, let alone something going wrong in his time travel.

Karl is used to disaster, to say the least.

However, on the fourth day, when Karl strolls into L’manberg he doesn’t expect to see Wilbur stringing up lights along the walls.

“Wilbur?” he shouts incredulously, and the president looks down at him.

“Ayup, Karl!” he calls, a friendly air settling on his features. “How goes it?”

“I’m... doing well! Are you decorating for the festival?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur says with a grimace. “We decided to push the date forward to two days from now. Not many people showed up to the election, but maybe the allure of... stuff,” he says with a gesture, “will draw them in.”

Karl watches as Wilbur leaves the half-strung up lights on the walkway and hops down to join Karl in looking up at the wall. “We’re hoping that... conflict will finally be resolved between our nation and the greater SMP. Dream and his gang are gutted about us winning, and there’s been no sign of Schlatt since we banished him for fraud. It would be a show of peace and good faith.”

“That’s a noble goal,” Karl says, settling a hand under his chin. “But what if something goes wrong?”

Wilbur narrows his eyes, watching Karl. “Are you implying something?”

“Oh, honk no!” he says emphatically. “But like you said, Dream is giving grief. What if he tries something?”

“It’s a valid concern Karl, but I assure you, we can handle it,” Wilbur affirms, putting a hand on his shoulder. “If there’s further worries or questions of yours, feel free to take it up with my vice president.”

“Isn’t your vice president on vacation?”

“...Feel free to take it up with my secretary of state.”

“Isn’t he on vacation too?”

“Feel free to take it up with me later, I’m busy,” Wilbur snaps, and Karl suppresses a giggle.

“Mr. President, I have materials for more decorations,” Karl offers. “If you need a hand, I’m available.”

Wilbur smiles at him. “Thank you. I think we could do with some small L’manberg flags to string up everywhere,” and the president points at the huge flag in the sky, currently limp against the pole due to the lack of wind. “You know the flag design, right?”

“Of course! I’ll get right on it.”

They part ways after that, Karl now scrambling to find said materials. He’s not sure why he lied about that. Maybe because it was easy. Either way, he’s stuck between the tasks of hard labor or stealing, and he knew which option he wouldn’t be taking. Who wouldn’t mind the loss of some wool?

He stands on the prime path, thinking. The sheep farm at Boomerville doesn’t exist yet, and he’s not sure of the location of wild sheep... _Eret!_ Eret had a sheep farm, of course! It didn’t exist past November (thank you Puffy), but maybe it was around now! And if not, the king was gracious enough to lend supplies to anyone staying in his castle. Maybe it was post-war guilt. Karl never asked.

He trots down the path with a spark in his step, glad to be getting the tale moving. The faster something went wrong, the faster he could visit the Inbetween, the faster he could get answers. Answers to _what_ he’s not sure of yet, but he knows he’ll find something to be confused about there. It was hard not to.

Karl steps through the Community House and onto the walkway leading into the castle. Eret’s home was grand, its towers and bridges exquisite, and he heard that Eret built it himself. He really knew how to put work into things; buildings, projects, _betrayal..._

“Eret!” Karl calls, walking into the grounds of the castle and looking around. Where exactly on his property did the king stay? He had no idea.

He walks into the castle further, eyes widening upon seeing a fountain. _This is pretty,_ he thinks with a smile, walking up to it and lifting a hand to the spray.

“Karl?”

Karl straightens and turns around, spotting a tall man in sunglasses and a red cape watching him carefully. “Eret,” he greets cordially while wiping his hand on his pants. “How are you?”

“I’m chuffed,” Eret says with a laugh, posture relaxing. “You here for something?”

“Actually, yeah,” Karl says, reaching up and tugging on a piece of hair. “Don’t know if you’ve heard, but L’manberg is holding a festival and I offered to decorate. Do you have, I dunno... banners or anything?”

Eret’s relaxed posture turns tense. “I don’t know if they like me anymore.”

“You don’t have to be liked,” Karl says with a chuckle. “Besides, forgiveness is necessary for growth. And that seems to be what Wilbur is pursuing. Maybe this is like... an olive branch?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Eret says, shifting his posture. “I’ll see what I can gather. What did you say you need? Banners?”

“Wilbur asked for small L’manberg flags.”

“I can get you dyed cloth if you’re proficient at sewing,” Eret says with a gentle smile.

“I know a _few_ tricks.”

Eret laughs, and a few moments later brings him into the tower stacked high with chests and pulls out bolts of colorful cotton fabric, before sending him on his way.

It takes the rest of the day for Karl to find a sewing machine, set it up with white thread, and churn out a few banners and flags. The flag was a bit complicated in terms of design, but the routine of sewing was easy to fall into and when Karl finally looked outside of the building he set up in, the moon was high in the sky.

Karl reaches forward to turn off the sewing machine and leaves his project there for the night, standing from his chair and walking outside. He wasn’t quite sure what building he decided to use, but it was next to the podium and had a very high ceiling. It didn’t look to be used, anyway.

Karl’s shoes brush against the grass and he looks up at the moon. It was halfway between a full moon and a half moon, shining its light onto the ground and washing the country in a soft glow.

 _This is nice,_ he thinks. He tears his gaze away from the moon to look at the walls, fully decorated with lights thanks to Wilbur, and makes his way into the camarvan, settling down for the night.

Despite everything going well, he can’t help the feeling of tension in his gut. Few stories went on for days like this, but Karl could tell something was going to happen, and soon.

On the day of the festival, Karl wakes up sweating.

“Gross,” he mumbles, standing up quickly and pulling a towel from the chest, wiping himself off. He wasn’t sure if there was a heating system in the van, but if there was, it felt like it had been turned to the max. The air was hot and stuffy and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, like every inhale was an effort of shoving oxygen into his lungs.

Karl drops the towel on the ground and steps outside, bumping straight into Tommy.

“Prime!” Tommy shouts, dancing away from Karl, and he steps back. “What the fuck?” Tommy squints at him, then steps back. “Karl? What the hell were you doing in there? You look like shit!”

“I was looking for a sewing needle,” Karl lies quickly, ignoring the insults and closing the door. “Didn’t find one. Do you know if Tubbo’s got one?”

“A sewing needle?” Tommy asks, looking at him as though he were insane. “What for?”

“...Sewing...?”

“I’m not stupid,” Tommy says, crossing his arms. “But what _for?”_

“Wilbur wanted banners for the festival and I volunteered to make some.”

“Oh. The festival.”

“What’s wrong with the festival?”

“Nothing, innit?” the boy sneered. “Well. Whatever. Bye.” Tommy spins on his heel and walks away, back through the walls and into the open.

“What was _that_ about?” Karl mutters. Why was Tommy even in front of the van in the first place?

Oh well. It wasn’t his problem. Karl quickly follows Tommy’s path but takes a right, turning past the walls and looking up at the podium. Wilbur is shuffling papers on top.

“Wilbur!” Karl calls, cupping his hands around his mouth, and the president startles and looks down at him.

“Karl! How’s decorating?”

“Going well! What time does the festival start?”

Wilbur pulls up his watch, and Karl walks closer until he’s standing among the front row of seats. “2 pm. It’s 9 am right now.”

“Five hours to go, then. Any last minute plans?”

“I made a speech, but other than that I’m just faffing around. In all honesty...” Wilbur scratches the base of his neck. “I’m worried no one will show up.”

“I’ll show up!”

Wilbur laughs, then smiles down at Karl. “Thanks, Karl.”

The two of them talk easily after that for a few minutes, until Wilbur says something about his speech and Karl leaves to his sewing machine. The minutes tick by in the building as he waits alone, waiting for the tension to finally mount and the festival to start and for something to go horribly wrong, but until then he sits alone with his thoughts and his sewing machine until he finally turns it on and works to pass the time.

Someone knocks at the door after a while, and Karl takes his foot off the pedal and raises his hands from the machine, turning to look at who it could be.

“Niki!” he greets, the woman standing in the doorway with some bags in her hands. The smell of baked goods wafts all the way over to Karl, and he smiles a bit at that.

“Karl,” the woman says with a grin. “I wanted to stop by and bring a pre-festival cookie,” she explains, walking forward and pulling a cookie from one of the bags in her arms. Karl takes it gratefully, biting into it and swallowing before opening his mouth to ask, “How long until the festival?”

“A few minutes. Eret showed up, and Wilbur noticed and looked a little on edge. They haven’t talked to each other yet. You’ve been in here for a while,” she adds.

“Anyone else here?”

“Tommy and Tubbo are back from their trip,” she offers. “I think they came back this morning. Tubbo said they went camping and Tommy says he fought a bear, but I bet it’s just hyperbole.”

“Camping?” Karl asks, finishing the cookie. “I never would have thought of them as the outdoorsy type.”

“They went west, through the spruce forest and to this nice field by a river.”

Karl thinks of where that could be, before his face falls slack. Surely not Pogtopia...?

“Other than that, no one’s here yet. I think people are waiting for the festival to actually start before they show up.”

“I have a few more last minute banners we could hang up,” Karl suggests. “Want to do it with me?”

“Sure,” Niki says with a smile, but nods at the table. “You’ll have to carry them. Any places in mind you want to hang these?”

“Along the walls should work,” Karl says, wiping his hands on his jeans and picking the banners up from off the table. He walks out of the building and to the walls, Niki chatting with him as they walk. She sets down the bags at a stand opposite from the walls, and as they work, Karl keeps a close eye on everyone slowly arriving. BadBoyHalo and Skeppy, Punz and Ponk. No sign of Dream or Sapnap.

He’s sure they’ll turn up.

Karl kind of wishes Sapnap would talk to him. _I miss my fiance’s dumb face,_ he thinks, and turns around one last time to look at the crowd. Everyone is looking up at the podium now.

“Friends of L’manberg!” a voice suddenly booms, and Karl looks up, nimble fingers tying up the final banner. Wilbur is speaking into his microphone, his hands resting on the podium. “Thank you all for coming to the festival.

“After the election, my cabinet and I decided to hold an event. We want to ensure that this country stands strong, and friendship is a big part of that. We are opening our borders to everyone, not just Europeans. And we want to make it show. So today, we have planned an event of festivities and fun! So, on that note, let the festival begin!”

Karl whoops and claps his hands together, the crowd next to him joining in, and Wilbur steps down from the stage to talk to Tommy, who was nearby. Karl turns to look at Niki, who’s smiling. “I should get to my stand now,” she says apologetically. “Don’t want to leave customers hanging.”

“You go,” Karl smiles, and watches as she steps away and behind the stand she had set her bags on.

Karl stands near the wall for a while, not sure what to do. He can see a few people by the lake, playing a game he can’t identify from this distance, and Niki and Eret are casually chatting. By the stage, Quackity, Tubbo, and Tommy are talking, and he wonders if he should join them. Karl turns to look at the wall, running one of the banners through his fingers, then looks up.

 _Sapnap?_ He thinks, just as his fiance jumps down from the wall and tackles him, dragging him away.

“Sapnap!” he shouts, and the wall explodes.

It’s a cataclysmic boom, the sound shaking the buildings and popping his ears. Karl lays on the ground in shocked silence, Sapnap still bearhugging him.

“Get off me,” he whispers quietly, and when Sapnap only stares at him, unhearing, Karl shakes him off. Sapnap gets the message, rolling away.

Karl stands up shakily, looking around, before pressing his ears and letting go, his hands falling to his sides.

Right in front of him, _right_ where he was standing, was a gaping hole in L’manberg’s wall.

“This is a message!” he hears someone scream from above him, and Karl recognizes the voice before he even looks up. Dream is staring down at everyone, his mask hiding all emotion he’s showing. “If Wilbur Soot does not step down from his presidency, we will bomb L’manberg! This is your _only. Warning.”_

Then, Dream disappears from view, and when Karl turns to look at Sapnap, maybe to shake him and ask _what the honk is going on?_ he’s gone too.

Karl stands there, alone, before he remembers that there were people at this festival, and he should check on them.

“HELLO?” he screams, his hearing returning to normal, and he spins around, looking for the festival-goers. Niki and Eret are behind him, collapsed by the bakery stand and slowly standing. He rushes over to them, leaning down. “Guys?” he says quietly, and Niki looks up at him.

“Don’t worry about us, we’re okay,” she says quickly. “Check on the others.”

Karl nods and spins, searching for the people at the pond. Bad meets his eyes and mouths, _we’re fine,_ and Karl nods once more before turning and running up to the podium. “Wilbur, Tommy!” he shouts. “Tubbo! Q!”

“Karl?” Quackity asks, his voice shaky, and he leans down next to his fiance. The group are sitting next to the podium, Tubbo and Tommy leaning against the brick and looking shaken but unhurt.

“I’m here,” he says quietly.

“Was- did Sapnap- did he do that?”

“It...” Karl pauses. “It was Dream. Sapnap was along with it, but he pushed me out of the way of the explosion.”

“Why would he do that?” Quackity mumbles, fingers grasping at the cuffs of Karl’s sweater, and he leans closer.

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s Wilbur?” Tommy demands, and Karl looks up at him.

“I don’t know that, either,” he confesses. “On the podium? Want to check with me?”

Tommy stands without responding, and Karl looks down at Quackity. “Come with?”

He nods and stands up, Karl keeping a hand on his fiance’s arm, before he glances over at Tubbo. The boy blinks, then stands up as well.

“Come on,” Quackity mumbles, and the three walk onto the stage.

When they walk into view, Karl sees Wilbur leaning against the wall with a hand on his head and Tommy next to him, hand hovering protectively over his back. “Are you okay?” he asks, leaning forward, and Karl can feel Quackity straighten next to him.

“I’m fine,” Wilbur says, his hand falling to his side. “Is everyone alright?”

“Yes, everyone’s okay.”

“What are you going to do?” Quackity asks, and Karl looks at him.

Wilbur pushes off the wall, gaze flicking to the hole in L’manberg’s defense. Karl can see Tommy walk over to Tubbo in his peripherals. “Dream... he threatened to bomb L’manberg unless I step down. But I _can’t_ step down, I was only just elected...”

“You could try pursuing negotiations?” Tubbo offers.

“You know the Dream Team as well as I do, we both know that’s not going to happen.”

“Sapnap is my fiance,” Karl says before looking at Quackity. “ _Our_ fiance. He’ll side with me, I _know_ it. Just give me time, I can help-”

“Karl Jacobs. Time bows to no god, and I’m afraid it’ll only catch up with me.”

Karl’s mouth snaps shut and he stares at Wilbur, even though the president is facing away from him. He knows that more than anyone, even more than Wilbur. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that this will only delay the inevitable. I guess... I suppose I can’t be president anymore.”

“You’re just gonna give it up, then? Without even trying?” Tommy demands.

“Dream is a force I no longer want to reckon with. If he promises you something, he _will_ carry through.”

“But it’ll make L’manberg seem weak!”

“I want what’s best for my people, Toms,” Wilbur snaps, turning to stare at his vice president, and even though it wasn’t directed at him, Karl shrinks back. “A crater is not good for my people.”

Karl’s mind is racing- what happened to Wilbur, his _original timeline’s_ Wilbur, to change his thinking so drastically? This Wilbur, the president, wanted what was best for the citizens, but Pogtopia Wilbur, the one who went mad with his own grief, wanted what was best for L’manberg...

...Even if that meant blowing it up.

“So who will be president, if not you?” Quackity asks.

“Tommy.”

Tubbo chokes out a surprised laugh from behind him, and Quackity argues, “But he’s a kid!”

“Hey!” Tommy shouts, just as Wilbur says, “That doesn’t undermine his capabilities.”

“It’s still a lot of stress-”

“-He’s gone through worse.”

“I don’t think it would be good for him.”

“How do you know what’s good for him?” Wilbur scoffs, turning around, and Quackity sags when he can’t come up with an argument. Karl frowns and thinks, _I’ve seen the timelines, I’ve seen different realities, I know what you’ve done, and you’ve got no say in his life._

Then again, Karl could hardly remember Tommy. He didn’t even know his name a few days ago! How could he talk for someone he doesn’t know?

“I’m right here,” Tommy mutters, and Tubbo pats his arm encouragingly.

Karl presses his lips into a thin line before opening his mouth to speak. “So that’s it, then?”

“Of course that’s it.”

“You’re really going to give it up?”

“Being a leader means making tough decisions. That’s what I’m doing,” Wilbur says.

 _And it reeks of cowardice,_ Karl thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He just turns and walks away.

The next day, President Wilbur Soot steps down from his position and gives it to TommyInnit.

It’s surprising to everyone for a multitude of reasons, but Karl only watches the process with apprehension. There’s no sign of Dream... because it’s exactly what he wanted. He can’t help but feel as though Wilbur played right into Dream’s hands.

Wilbur is at the back of the stage, watching quietly as Tommy taps the microphone, preparing to give his speech. Karl hunches in his seat, and Tommy opens his mouth to speak.

“This was certainly... unexpected.” The boy president laughs nervously, eliciting an uneasy chuckle from the crowd. “I am not the president you voted for, and I know that. But I’m just as committed to this country as Wilbur is. L’manberg represents all of us, and it represents hope. So even though it may seem a bit bleak right now, we will stand strong. We will stay hopeful. And we’ll survive. Uh... thank you everyone.”

Tommy steps away from the mic quickly, and when no one else steps up to the podium and it’s clear the procession is over, everyone slowly starts clapping. The applause fizzles out quickly, and everyone leaves as fast as possible.

Karl sits in his seat even after everyone else left. Now, he’s not sure _what_ will happen. Tommy looked nervous up on that stage, but he accepted the presidency willingly -was that the case the last time this happened?- and everyone just... moved on. That was it.

Tubbo and Tommy are now standing next to each other at the base of the stage, talking quietly. Karl stands up, his arms crossed. The unspoken but universal question was practically palpable in the air, the question of _what now?_

Karl straightens and brushes the nonexistent dust off of his hoodie. No better way to get a story moving than to talk to the protagonists, he supposes.

“Tommy!” he shouts, his feet thudding against the cobblestone road, and just as the president looks over to him, Karl opens his mouth to continue and the ground opens up underneath his feet.

For the first time ever, Karl screams as he’s plunked into the Inbetween, and he sits in shock on that pristine, white floor for so long that his butt starts to ache. _What the honk?_ _  
_

He scrambles to his feet after a while and spins around, looking at the castle. “THAT STORY WASN’T OVER!” he screams into the abyss of white. “WHY WOULD YOU TAKE ME BACK?”

The Inbetween doesn’t answer. Of course it doesn’t. Karl scowls and turns back around to face the black rose in its pot before pushing past it, hurrying into the ever-changing corridors until he steps into the courtyard. The white tree watches him, its eggshell bark shiny and its leaves iridescent. Instead of his usual feeling of wonder and awe, he only feels anger, and his hands grip the railing so hard his knuckles turn as white as the walls. What did the Inbetween expect from him? For him to daydream up an ending instead of experiencing it?

Why did he have to trust the Inbetween, anyway?

Karl looks down, spotting a shiny book laying in the grass, and steps away from the railing, walking down the stairs to pick it up. He opens it, and it only spews the same gibberish as always. _The Inbetween would help him. The Inbetween would teach him. This is happening for a reason. You are changing for a reason._

And yet, no real answers.

Karl flips to the final page and frowns, eyes scanning the line over and over.

_He who faces himself, finds himself._

Great. More pretentiousness. Maybe the way to get his memory back was to _search inside himself,_ or some other nonsense.

Karl stands there in the sea of white for a long time, like a gray speck in snow, staring at that open page of the book until he lets it fall from his hands and to the ground. He turns and walks in a random direction, searching for more books so that the Inbetween could release its hold on him and let him go home. Couldn’t it offer real help, instead of being ambiguous and vague?

Things were never that easy, he knew. He had experienced and been through countless tales, and there were always complications. There was always someone who couldn’t be saved. Would that be him? Was he the victim in an ever-changing story?

It would be nice for someone to reach out, some godly presence to hold him and tell him it would all be okay, but Karl knew he was alone, and he knew that he was the only one who could save himself.

 _After all, he who faces himself, finds himself,_ he thinks darkly.

The path Karl takes leads him to find several more books, but he pays less attention to the words and more so the crisp white pages the words are printed onto. He wonders how the books appeared, and who wrote them. He wonders if there was anyone else in this castle besides the other fragmented versions of himself he could sometimes see roaming the halls.

 _I don’t want to be alone anymore,_ Karl thinks, and sets another book down. He stares at the permanent sunrise in the sky for a long time, and then his mind starts to fuzz and everything falls away.

Karl steps through the portal, turning to look at it with thinly veiled distaste, before walking up the stairs into the library. He walks toward a bookshelf, rummaging around for a spare sheet of paper he can write the entry on, before he finds it and pulls a pen off the side of the table. Quickly, he writes,

_The residents of L’manberg hold an election, with parties Swag2020 and Pog2020 going head to head. Pog2020 wins, and one of the candidates of an opposing party was exiled for fraud. Days after the election, a festival was held in L’manberg that was bombed as a political statement. They threatened for L’manberg’s president to step down, which he did without question. The vice president became president._

Karl frowns down at the paper, staring at the written lines. The story felt unfinished, as though the real climax was missing. Why would the Inbetween yank him out of a story before it was finished? Didn’t it send him traveling for answers, or to tell a tale?

What was the point of a story with a missing ending?

Karl pulls out his diary and doesn’t bother to title the entry, choosing to instead frantically scribble. The handwriting is messy with frustration. _Before I could continue the story further, I was yanked out against my will. The Inbetween is providing fewer answers and more questions. Why won’t it give me facts instead of theories and logic instead of questions? I’m tired of thinking about what is happening to me. I want to do something about it, but I don’t know what options I have._

Karl titles it, then closes the diary and turns toward the entrance. He steps through, into the main room of the library, then into the bright light. Blood vines are snaking ever closer to Party Park, and Karl’s lip sticks out in disgust. Honking Egg...

“KARL!” a familiar voice shouts, and Karl looks up from his survey of the blood vines to see a blond boy storming towards him. “What the fuck was that?”

“Tommy?” Karl asks incredulously.

“You just fell through the floor, man! And now you’re all the way back here?”

“How long was I gone?”

“Like, ten minutes,” Tommy says, running a hand through his hair. “Prime, just tell me what’s going on, Karl!”

“Tell you what?” Karl asks, shifting. “I don’t have any answers for you.”

“How about you start with that portal that swallowed you up, dickhead?”

“That was... an earthquake,” Karl lies quickly, but he knows his fibbing won’t save him this time by the way Tommy crosses his arms. “Tommy, I’m sorry,” he says instead, deflating from his rapidly disappearing

conviction. “I can’t tell you anything.”

“Who says? You?”

 _The Inbetween,_ Karl thinks, but after another moment of thinking, adds, _honk the Inbetween._

“It was time travel,” Karl says after a long, drawn out sigh. Tommy only stares at him before straightening.

“I would say bullshit, but I know better,” Tommy says darkly, stepping forward, but Karl is too tired to be scared of him. “You’re a time traveler?”

“Yes.”

“WHAT THE HELL!” Tommy shouts, throwing his hands up. “Can you take me with? Can you save Wilbur?”

Karl pauses, staring into Tommy’s eyes, searching for any hint of malice, but sees only earnesty. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” Tommy demands.

“I don’t choose where I travel to. I was lucky enough to-”

“Are you sure?” Tommy asks, confidence rapidly shifting into desperation. “Haven’t you tried? Can’t you at least _try?”_

“OF COURSE I TRIED!” Karl screams, and the two are left blinking at each other. “I didn’t mean to yell, I’m sorry,” he says quickly, but Tommy keeps blinking at him, so Karl takes a deep breath and continues. “I... I tried. I was lucky enough to be sent back here, once, and I- I removed the button at the festival, because you didn’t see it but _I_ saw, I lived through it, I lived through the original destruction and it was on the day of the festival instead and everyone... _died,”_ he whispers. “And I lived like that for months until I got to travel back and at least try and fix everything, and at least Wilbur’s gone instead of half the server!”

Tommy just stares at him, his mouth open slightly. “Well- well- how could- how could you say that? Can’t you just do it all over again and stuff? You can’t possibly- you-” Tommy cuts himself off, staring down at the ground.

“I know what it’s like to lose everything,” Karl says, voice quiet. Tommy doesn’t say anything, so he rambles. “I can’t control it, I don’t know when I’m going to be plunged into a new scenario 100 years in the future that I have to die in in order to leave, or when I have to save the lives of everyone in a town. And every time it happens, I lose my memory more and more. I didn’t even remember your name, I didn’t remember Niki’s name, I don’t know when buildings were made or the significance of... I wish I could do more. I wish I could help you. But it’s out of my hands.”

“And there’s no one you can ask,” Tommy says slowly. “For help.”

Karl hesitates and thinks of the Inbetween, the white dimension that promised him help in exchange for traveling, but has so far received none. “No,” he whispers again. “I’m alone.”

“So... what? You’re just defenseless against...” Tommy waves his hand vaguely. “Time?”

“Aren’t we all?”

Tommy mutters, “Great. Two people at the mercy of _time.”_

Karl looks down at his feet, missing the way the boy opposite him studies his face and posture and switched up hoodie. “Do you want me to help you?”

“What?” Karl laughs, looking up at Tommy, but the incredulous smile drops off his face when he sees the serious look on Tommy’s. “What?” he asks again.

“I’ve fought God before,” he says nonchalantly. “What’s one more?”

“That’s.... more aggressive than... if you want, I guess, I mean, you don’t have to-”

Karl yelps as the ground beneath him starts to shift, but Tommy takes Karl’s wrist firmly and the two lock eyes.

“Come on!” Tommy shouts gleefully, and instead of falling into the portal, they jump right in.


End file.
